


Priorities Straight

by nightflyer42



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Will, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal cannot shut up, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Making Out, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-30 14:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightflyer42/pseuds/nightflyer42
Summary: There is Will Graham looking like a lovesick puppy, and then there's the come-hither eyes and wine bottle fondling. After all, every cannibal has their limits.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this](http://redfivewritingby.tumblr.com/post/158079417537/captainnightflyer-fragile-teacup) post on tumblr. As you can all see, RedFive made me do it. Enjoy!

Watching Hannibal cook was a pleasure in itself. His assured movements left Will a little breathless and he found that his eyes kept slipping to those muscular forearms and deft fingers, watching them manipulate foodstuffs and utensils with the same precision as they had manipulated the severed blood vessels of the unfortunate victim of their organ thief. Will blinked and the image of those hands bloody and buried inside a living, breathing human being made him a little dizzy. He needed a distraction, so he asked the question which had been niggling at him since the ambulance.

Hannibal kept working as they talked.

“I have transferred my passion for anatomy into the culinary arts. I fix minds instead of bodies and no one’s died as a result of my therapy.”

Will chuckled, feeling his cheeks flush as the words “passion for anatomy” left Hannibal’s lips, and stepped closer to leave the wine and make his excuses.

Hannibal’s hands ceased their careful actions and froze midair; suddenly the laser focus of their owner was on Will, pinning him in place like a butterfly. Slowly, Hannibal looked him up and down, from his flushed face to the bottle of wine still clutched tightly in his hands. Will felt more exposed than ever under the scrutiny of those mesmerizing eyes. Hannibal’s nostrils flared and he set down the bowl on the counter with a clang.

“Everyone out!” he said quietly. The hired assistants shared a look of confusion and hesitated, apparently unsure if they heard right.

“I _despise_ having to repeat myself,” Hannibal reiterated a little louder, never breaking eye contact with Will. Suddenly everyone was scrambling out of the kitchen, leaving Will frozen in place and his pants getting more uncomfortable by the minute.

After the doors closed, Hannibal pushed aside the carefully arranged dishes, creating an empty space right in front of him, and _leapt over the counter_. In the blink of an eye, he was a breath away from Will, without any protective barrier between them. He kept advancing and Will kept backing up, until his back hit the painting hanging on the wall and there was no more room to retreat. 

“Ha..Hannibal?” he stuttered, feeling the ghost of warmth from the body almost flush against his. Instead of responding, Hannibal slowly raised his arms and placed his hands against the wall, effectively caging Will from all sides. A base, animal instinct to flee was screaming somewhere in the back of Will’s brain, but it was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears as all available resources were redirected southward.

Hannibal leaned in close to the side of Will’s neck and inhaled deeply, before rumbling softly in his ear, “Your scent is very fascinating this evening, Will. Certainly nothing with a ship on the bottle.”

Will felt a wracking shudder through his entire body as he realized that Hannibal could _smell_ his arousal. Somewhere between mortification and excitement, he managed to open his mouth and croak, “Maybe you inspired me to change it.”

Hannibal drew back, his eyes flashing dangerously, before he pressed Will against the painting, ( _probably a valuable, museum-quality painting_ , Will’s mind screamed), and proceeded to claim his mouth, taking no prisoners. All the controlled precision had disappeared and everything was a desperate slide of lips and tongue with just the right hint of teeth. Will couldn’t suppress and embarrassing whimper, not certain how they got from chatting like colleagues to making out and, yes, almost dry humping against the _museum quality painting_ , but he couldn’t care less at the moment. The bottle of wine slipped from his nerveless fingers and smashed on the floor, but neither of them cared.

Finally, a nervous cough made them come up for air. Hannibal pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath before they both opened their eyes. If looks could kill, the poor boy fidgeting at the door would be dead already.

“I apologize, Dr. Lecter, but your guests are due to arrive any moment now.”

Hannibal growled low in his throat before he pushed off and left Will plastered there, feeling a bit like a debauched maiden from a bodice-ripper.

“I’ll be there shortly,” his voice was clipped, only his heaving chest betraying his lack of the usual calm.

The boy almost ran and Will couldn’t contain a chuckle which soon grew into full-blown laughter. Hannibal took in the broken bottle and the painting pushed askew and then they were both laughing until actual tears sprang in Will’s eyes.

After they managed to collect themselves, Hannibal’s face grew sober and he pulled Will close for one last kiss.

“Stay,” he whispered.

Will tried to refuse, but he was silenced with a kiss, this one lighter and sweeter.

“I can send them all home.” Another kiss. “I can tell them there was an emergency. It wouldn’t even be stretching the truth too far; I am feeling quite urgent right now.”

Will shook his head and pushed back gently.

“Go. Entertain. We can’t have all your hard work go to waste.”

Hannibal sighed and reluctantly withdrew. “You don’t have to attend dinner. Go upstairs, get some rest. You and I have a lot to discuss and you aren’t leaving this house until we do.”

Will paused, processing how he felt about being given a direct order. Then he grinned slowly and lowered his eyes demurely.

“Yes, Doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal’s eyes darkened and he clenched his fists, almost taking a step forward.

“Go upstairs, before I change my mind and make a feast out of you on my dining table in front of the cream of the Baltimore high society. _Now_ , Will!”

Will didn’t need to be told twice.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's thoughts throughout dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, when I decided to continue this, there was porn. Like, 3k words and counting. But I'm still not done with that part, because every time I plan some writing time, the universe conspires to ruin it, and ruined plans make my anxiety rear its ugly head. Still, I had a little time today but when I sat down, this happened because apparently Hannibal needs to think everything to death. Sorry. The porn is happening, I promise.

As his assistants rushed back into the kitchen, they made no comment of the spilled wine and shards of glass on the floor. With the quiet menace emanating in waves from Hannibal, they probably felt on some base, animal level that it would be quite unwise to comment, and they simply cleaned it up, quietly and efficiently. The boy who had interrupted them didn’t even glance his way, though his cheeks were flushed. Hannibal hoped he would be professional about it and there would be no gossip; after all, good help was hard to find.

Hannibal surveyed his pants and decided with a sigh that they were dark enough to suffer the few stray droplets of wine. There was simply no time to change, and even if there was, he would need to go upstairs, where he would run into Will and there was only so much self-control a man could have, as he had amply proved tonight. He still didn’t know quite what had possessed him; the lapse in his iron self-control was worrisome and uncharacteristic. Still, he had learned that Will Graham’s mere existence created unexpected currents and eddies in the current of his life, which bothered and charmed him in equal measure.

For the first time in a long while, Hannibal was excited about something beyond his extracurricular activities. Even those, even the games he played with patients had lost some of their luster. That was the reason why the Chesapeake Ripper had taken a long hiatus. Hannibal had been _bored_. Since Will, life had been everything but boring. The unexpected turn of the evening could be the cause of some concern, but he could not define the exact parameters of that concern before dinner was over.

Hannibal had been throwing these parties for years. He derived from them both enjoyment of the praise he received for his skill, and the darker pleasure of watching Baltimore’s finest compliment his cooking, completely unaware what they were eating. The parties were a high point, a relief of boredom for a short while. For the first time, he could not wait for the feast to be done even before it began.

Hannibal found that while his pants could pass muster, his shoes were ruined. Fortunately, he had another pair downstairs which would do in a pinch. He’d barely had time to change, when the doorbell rang. Outside was Alana Bloom, five minutes early. She raised her eyebrows at the wine soaked footwear in his hands.

“Good evening, Hannibal. An accident?”

“Good evening, please, come in. Yes, I have suffered a sartorial mishap, a bottle of wine broke in the kitchen. Let me just put these away, proceed to the dining room, please.”

Afterwards, the evening became a flurry of greetings and polite conversation. The table settings were beautiful, his dishes were perfect and he couldn’t resist the small joke that nobody would get. Still, Hannibal’s mind wandered upstairs.

The burnt, sweet smell of sickness lingering on Will had kept blooming and growing with each passing day. As its layers developed, he drew closer to a certain diagnosis; the recent episode when he had found Will in his classroom in a fugue state almost confirmed it for him. It was fascinating to watch the effect of a rare and complicated disease such as encephalitis on a rare and complicated mind like Will’s. Already the torment of staring through other killers’ eyes was stirring the darkness laying in the deep pits and crevices of his soul. Would the illness exacerbate this struggle or make it easier for Will to let go? Hannibal was rife with anticipation to find out. There were only a few minor issues which could throw a wrench in his plans.

Before, when Will had been late for his session, Hannibal had been unprepared for the stab of disappointment when he opened the door and found the waiting room empty. That alone should have been warning enough that his fascination was escaping the tight leash he kept on his emotions. He had also been unprepared for the way Will had looked at him when he was assisting with the man in the ambulance. It was a thrill, sitting there with his hands inside a human body, in a different manner than usual. When Will met his eyes, it felt like being under an x-ray scan and for a moment, Hannibal felt with certainty that he had been made, that Will would pale and shout and point his finger.

Though that was not the case; Will saw at another level, but he still could not penetrate deep enough to see under his “person suit”. While Bedelia’s metaphor left him somewhat irked, he could not deny its aptness; she had always had a way with words. Will Graham gave him the unique experience of being seen without being _seen_. Somehow, he could see the pieces of the puzzle and for some unfathomable reason, in Hannibal’s case he simply could not put them together. Maybe it was the illness wracking his brain. Maybe emotions got in the way; after this evening, Hannibal could believe that the judgment of both parties to their dance had been somewhat clouded by those. While he disliked things that caused disorder to his plans, Hannibal burned with curiosity where this new, unexpected path would lead for both of them. Somehow, he felt it at the depths of his being, in the darkness where the monster lived, that the threads of their lives had become inseparably entwined, and whatever came would be inevitable as the shears of Atropos.

“Hannibal!” A light touch on his arm made him aware of his surroundings. Alana was watching him with some concern, her hand still resting on his cuff.

“You seem distracted this evening. I want you to know that Jack’s ears are probably still ringing. He had no business bringing a civilian into a field operation, especially trying to apprehend someone as dangerous as the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Hannibal let his lips curl into an indulgent smile.

“Nonsense, Alana. If I wasn’t there, that poor man could have died on the gurney. Thanks to me, he now lives, albeit short a kidney. Jack only asked, I accepted.”

“Still, with all he has piled on Will’s head, now dragging you in… I am very upset with him.”

“Now, now, none of that at my table, you will ruin your digestion. I apologize for being distracted, I promise I will be the perfect host for the rest of the evening.”

So he kept on, churning out small talk, smiling and nodding politely, all the while reliving the taste of Will’s lips and the sounds he had made under Hannibal’s mouth. Truly, dinner could not be over soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every twitch of acknowledgement makes my ego purr. Thanks to everyone who left a peep! You can come say hi on [tumblr](http://captainnightflyer.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... here is the promised porny part. This is officially the most explicit thing I have written, ever. The rating has escalated correspondingly. Tags have been updated. It kind of got away from me, because Hannibal cannot shut up to save his life. I just wanted a little PWP, but noooo, he has to wax lyrical about his precious mongoose. So, enjoy the porn.  
> Feel free to point out any mistakes. This has caused me endless frustration and if I try to read and edit one more time, I might delete the whole thing and burn my computer just in case.

Finally, the last of the guests trickled out, lingering at the doorstep and trying to extract promises of a repeat performance very soon. Hannibal nodded politely, making agreeable noises, inwardly burning with desire to shove them all out the door. Still, he patiently waited for everyone to leave, for the assistants to help with cleaning and putting away leftovers. In the end of it, when every intruder was out, he leaned on the door and breathed deeply, trying to order his mind and collect his wits. He was alone in the house with Will and he had to think what exactly he wanted to do about that. After some consideration, he removed his jacket and his waistcoat; then he picked out a bottle of his best scotch and two glasses and climbed up the stairs.

It was quite late, certainly after midnight, and Hannibal entertained the possibility Will was simply asleep somewhere in a guest room. Still, he wasn’t terribly surprised to find him in his own bedroom, curled up in a chair, reading.

Hannibal lingered in the doorway, admiring the way the light softened Will’s features, easing the fatigue and constant tension lines from his headaches. He had removed his shoes and his feet were tucked underneath him; relaxed and comfortable was not a look often seen on Will Graham, but it suited him.

Will glanced up and blinked, removing the book from his lap and placing it on the side table.

“You didn’t specify when you said “upstairs”, so I had to improvise. I suppose this is your bedroom?”

“You supposed correctly.” Hannibal pushed off the doorframe and advanced slowly. It was late, he was tired and frustrated and he knew that glimpses of his inner predator were showing; he found that he simply didn’t care. On some level, Will had to feel that, his perception was always keen, despite his illness.  

Will stood up hastily, trying to straighten his shirt, his hand flying up to his face and falling back halfway when he realized that there weren’t any glasses to fix, nothing to hide behind. Still, he didn’t back down; Hannibal found himself, yet again, charmed.

“Well, the others looked like hotel rooms; at least that’s how I imagine five star hotel rooms look like. This one felt more… personal, though the samurai armor did surprise me.” He paused and swallowed nervously, “Did… did everyone leave?”

Hannibal couldn’t suppress the smile curving up his mouth as Will _babbled_ before trailing off with a blush. He placed the glasses next to the book and slowly poured a finger of scotch in both. “Everyone is gone, yes. Here, do you want a drink?”

Will accepted his glass with a quiet “Thank you” and took a small sip; Hannibal could see the restraint behind the gesture, it was very clear that Will really wanted to down the whole thing in one gulp. He sipped his own drink, letting it slide down his throat and settle warm in his belly.

“Will,” he started gently, trying to catch the other man’s eyes, “I don’t expect anything from you. I’d like at least to talk about before, but that’s not mandatory either.”

Will put down his glass and scowled.

“I am a grown man pushing forty! Will you stop treating me like a blushing virgin?”

Hannibal just raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to stop acting like one?”

Will’s eyes widened and then he laughed, an echo of their earlier amusement over the situation in the kitchen. He dragged his palm across his face and groaned.

“This is absurd. Why was it so much easier before?”

“I took you by surprise and you reacted on instinct. Now, you’ve had hours to think and to talk yourself out of it.”

Will swirled the whiskey in his glass, still smiling “Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”

“I admit I wasn’t sure what I would find. I’m glad that I found you here, reading my book and waiting up for me.”

Will turned around and looked at the book, stroking its cover. It was _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ ; Hannibal couldn’t help but see the irony.

“I… I have been thinking, yes. I am sure you are aware that there are many, many reasons why we shouldn’t pursue this any further.”

Hannibal approached slowly and placed his hand on Will’s shoulder, feeling the minute tremor under his fingertips. “Yes, I am aware.  I can even say that I made a snap decision against my better judgment, something I very rarely afford. Still, what is done is done, the cards are on the table. The question is, regardless of those reasons, what do _you_ want?”

Will just stood there, trembling, for several moments, a small eternity. Then, with a heaving breath, he relaxed under Hannibal’s touch and leaned back against his chest.

“Please…” he whispered, defeated, forts crumbling and just raw desire in his voice, more than simple surrender. Will, once more, trusted Hannibal to take care of him, which sent a shiver of excitement down his spine as he drew the younger man even closer, encircling his waist.

“What do you want, Will?” he repeated, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Will’s neck as he waited for an answer. Will gasped, shivering and arching, exposing more skin for Hannibal to explore.

“I don’t want to think tonight. Too much has been happening and I don’t know what to do with it, I can’t make sense of anything. Can you help me forget, just for a little while?”

Hannibal tightened his hands around Will’s middle, the desire to cherish and protect rearing its head again. It was such a heartfelt request, almost childish in its simplicity, and a stab of guilt reminded him that he was to blame for a large part of Will’s mental discomfort. That was not to be helped at the moment, but for tonight he could focus on the physical and be what Will needed. Tomorrow was another issue altogether.

He slowly steered Will towards the full-length mirror on the far wall without breaking their embrace, nuzzling the soft curls at his nape. Still, Will realized where they were headed, and his steps became reluctant and dragging, but he still didn’t pull away. When they reached their destination, Hannibal tried to catch Will’s eyes in the mirror, but they skittered around the room nervously, his body tightening, starting to curl away. Hannibal brushed his lips across Will’s ear, resisting the urge to bite, and murmured quietly, “Do you trust me?”

Will stood frozen for a moment, and gradually relaxed with an exhaled, barely audible, _“Yes…”_

“I am telling you again, you don’t _have_ to do anything.”

“I... I want to. I trust you. It’s just the mirror that bothers me.”

Hannibal turned him around slowly and studied his face, cheeks flushed, lashes lowered, lips bitten almost raw. It pained him that Will could look in the mirror and not appreciate what he saw. His eyes finally were met with stormy blue, unsure and tired.

“Will you just indulge me for a moment? If it’s too much, we will move right away.”

Will swallowed and nodded, leaning forward to nuzzle underneath Hannibal’s chin.

“All right. For a moment.”

Slowly, Hannibal started unbuttoning Will’s shirt, pausing after each button to caress the revealed skin, to brush against the hard pink nipples and too-hollow stomach, reveling in the soft, almost pained sounds Will made, and the way he simultaneously shied away and leaned into his touch. Without being told, he was aware that Will’s empathy and his solitary ways were not conducive to frequent company and he couldn’t help wondering how long it had been since Will had felt a touch other than his own hand, not only sexual, _any_ touch. Throughout, Will stood still, trembling, only his hands found their way to Hannibal’s shoulders and neck, roaming into his hair, clutching from time to time, otherwise passive, waiting.

When finally the shirt was completely open, Hannibal didn’t hurry to remove it. He took his time unbuttoning each cuff, grazing his teeth along the delicate wrist bones, finally giving in and taking a finger into his mouth, sliding it across his tongue in a mimic of a more intimate caress. At that, Will’s hand in his hair tightened almost painfully and he gasped, “Stop!”

Hannibal reluctantly released the finger, rubbing his tongue across his palate to memorize the unique taste of Will’s skin. He pushed off the shirt and let it fall on the floor.

“Turn around, Will.”

Will slowly slid his hands out of Hannibal’s hair, took a deep breath and turned slowly. His eyes were fixed on the floor, so Hannibal gently slid a hand under his chin and urged him to look up. Finally, Will’s lashes fluttered and he met his own gaze at the mirror.

“Oh…” he gasped, knees buckling, but Hannibal held his hips firmly; he couldn’t fault his reaction, the sight they made was maybe one of the most erotic tableaus he’s had the pleasure of viewing. Hannibal shifted his hands, stroking up and down, loving the way Will blushed and arched into his touch. He sought Will’s eyes in their reflection and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“You are exquisite, Will. Your skin is pale and contrasts beautifully with the flush of arousal on your cheeks and down your neck. Your dilated pupils, your disheveled hair, your lips bitten raw … you are a picture of debauchery itself, painfully, strikingly beautiful. Never be ashamed or afraid to be like this.”

Will groaned deep in his throat and leaned back, pushing against Hannibal.

“Oh, _fuck_ , I think I could come just like this if you keep talking. Your voice is like a thousand hands touching each inch of my skin.”

Hannibal chuckled, sliding his hand across Will’s stomach, enjoying the contrast of his darker skin and still-dressed silhouette framing Will’s slighter body. He couldn’t resist stroking a nipple with his thumb, watching it peak and darken with his attentions. Will’s reaction was even more satisfying; the small bitten-off gasps turned into moans and the warm and pliant body in his embrace strained towards his touch. Still, he wanted to test if his words of praise and devotion truly affected Will as much as he said, so Hannibal leaned in and purred, “Downstairs, in the kitchen, I was looking at you within the frame of that painting and thinking there was no better masterpiece in my house than you. You deserve to be worshipped, Will, and I would be a willing supplicant. There aren’t many people I would kneel for, but you just need to say the word.”

With a whine, Will pulled away from Hannibal’s grasp and withdrew at a distance, panting.

“I don’t want to come in my pants, Hannibal!”

“We should do away with them, then.”

 He advanced at Will, backing him up towards the bed.  As he walked, he started unbuttoning his own shirt, enjoying the way Will’s eyes took in hungrily each inch of skin. Hannibal took pride in his body; it was mostly a useful tool, carefully maintained, but still he liked this open appreciation of its more aesthetic qualities.

Meanwhile, Will was unbuttoning his jeans hastily, with more of a desire to be done with the awkward part of undressing than to titillate. In his mind, Hannibal could see Will’s previous encounters, hurried affairs, a chase towards completion without appreciating the process of getting there. He eagerly anticipated everything he could teach Will if their entanglement continued. Still, Will was too wound up tonight, so Hannibal decided to leave the lessons for later and quickly stripped off his own trousers, leaving only his boxers.

Will was already on the bed, naked and panting, his cock hard and curved against his belly. Hannibal could see the glistening spot on his belly where precome was already leaking from the tip, and he licked his lips. Will was staring at him, holding his gaze despite his professed aversion for eye contact. He seemed less skittish, as if the moments they took to undress had helped him compose himself.

When Hannibal climbed beside him, Will surprised him yet again by snaking an arm around his neck and pulling him down. Hannibal almost lost his balance, but he caught himself on one arm. Will smiled, only a breath away.

“You haven’t kissed me yet, since before, in the kitchen. So I decided it was my turn.”

Hannibal let himself be pulled down to the moist heat of Will’s mouth. He could swear that Will was out of practice, but he gained confidence with each stroke of his tongue, so Hannibal let him explore and lick and bite, answering in kind, until they were both dizzy, desperately gasping for air before plunging back. The previous kiss had been spontaneous, out of the blue… Hannibal had _stolen_ that kiss. This one was freely given, and they were both lost to it, almost growling with need, their bodies aligning without conscious thought.

When Hannibal felt their cocks brush through the silk of his boxers, his hips stuttered at the delicious friction. Will tore away his mouth with a moan.

“Jesus, how can you wear silk underwear all day? I’d be going around hard all the time, it’s _obscene_.”

Hannibal smirked at the mental image of Will, aroused and disgruntled, “You get used to it.” Then he reached slowly between them, under his waistband. Will’s eyes followed the path of his hand, licking his lips, his pupils blowing wider. Instead of touching himself, Hannibal grasped Will’s cock through the wet silk and started stroking. Will arched up, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Hannibal’s back, his heels digging in for leverage. Hannibal moved his hand slowly, just enough to tease, delighting in every whimper escaping Will’s mouth, until they turned into pleas.

 “Just… just fuck me, I need you to fuck me so hard that I can’t think, that was the deal, please, Hannibal!”

Hannibal’s hand tightened unconsciously around Will’s cock, eliciting another ragged moan, before letting go. He took a deep breath, trying to tamp down his inner beast, which suddenly flared up, chomping at the bit to claim. He reminded himself that tonight was about Will, and about whatever comfort Hannibal could provide. So he reached towards the nightstand, retrieving a bottle of lubricant, and placed it on the bed within easy reach.

“This is what you want?”

 “Yes, fuck, go ahead and do it already!” Will was flushed all the way down to his navel, both from arousal and maybe a little embarrassment at begging to be fucked to shamelessly. Hannibal slicked his hand and reached down, caressing Will’s balls lightly before slipping his fingers lower. He was almost certain of the answer, but still he felt compelled to make sure, “Have you done this before?”

Will huffed in exasperation, “Yes, though it was a long time ago.”

“Did you like it?”

“Oh, definitely!” Will’s face took a dreamlike expression and Hannibal had to suppress an urge of irrational jealousy and replace it with determination. It was good that Will’s experience so far had been pleasant. He would be more relaxed and Hannibal could focus on surpassing each and every one of his previous lovers.

With the first barely-there caress of a wet finger, Will’s eyes fluttered closed and he shivered. Encouraged, Hannibal pressed harder and Will arched off the bed with a whimper. Hannibal paused, eyebrows raised, and Will opened an eye, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“I definitely, _definitely_ like this, Hannibal. And if I have to be honest, just the thought of you touching me with those hands is maddening. So, I’m going to be loud. Fair warning.”

Hannibal had to take a deep breath _again_ and try to reign in his own excitement. Will was proving to be above and beyond anything he had ever imagined.

Slowly he continued massaging Will’s hole, teasing around the rim and pushing in, then withdrawing, only to push a little further next time. When he finally twisted his finger to brush against Will’s prostate, the man cried out, grinding his hips down. Hannibal retreated, circling again, this time with two fingers, and bent down to bury his face in Will’s groin, nuzzling the crease on his thigh. He inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of musk, sweat and desperation. He turned his head and dragged his tongue along the length of Will’s cock, greedily licking away the clear droplets leaking from the slit. Twitching under his mouth, Will uttered a sharp cry and pushed down on his fingers, his hole fluttering, almost sucking them in.

“Hannibal, don’t make me beg!” His voice was hoarse already, mouth open and panting.  Deciding that enough was enough, Hannibal added another dollop of lube, pushing in and out, stretching, brushing spot inside that made Will thrash and whine, staring voraciously at the blissful expression on his face. When Will took a hitching breath, which turned into a sob, and tears rolled down his temples, Hannibal’s rhythm stuttered. Will’s teeth were bared, in agony or ecstasy, Hannibal honestly couldn’t tell, but he felt shaken at this complete abandon, as if Will’s empathy was leaking through in reverse. His chest heaved with another sob and he clutched at Hannibal’s shoulders, his hands clawing desperately, leaving red marks in their wake.

“It feels so _good_ , Hannibal, please, don’t stop. It’s been so long since anything felt good…”

Hannibal almost snarled at that; it was hopeless, he couldn’t fight it. The beast within his breast had found its mate and it wanted to serve, to protect and to provide. He set a quick, almost brutal pace, and leaned down to lick away the tears and to croon in his ear.

“You deserve to feel good, Will. I will give you all the pleasure my mind and body can provide. I want to spend hours touching you like this, keeping you on the edge until you are wild with bliss. I will spread you like a feast on my dining room table and I will fuck you with my tongue until you beg, and then I will keep going until you come just from my mouth on you.”

Will’s whole body seized, his mouth working silently as he hung there, poised on the edge; when Hannibal pressed gently against his prostate, he bowed off the bed, sobbing and howling, his cock twitching and pulsating against his belly, spurting as far as his chest. Hannibal gentled him through his orgasm, stroking his twitching insides until Will gasped, “Enough!” and curled away, overstimulated and still shaking.

Hannibal removed his fingers carefully and plastered his front against Will’s back, nuzzling his hair and pressing gentle kisses to his nape. His own cock was feeling quite insistent, almost escaping the confines of his briefs, but for the moment he just wanted to luxuriate in the feeling of Will Graham trembling in his arms, shattered by Hannibal’s touch alone.

It took a couple of minutes for Will to compose himself and become articulate beyond little gasps and whimpers as aftershocks wracked through his body. Finally, he turned on his back and stared at the ceiling, his hand grasping at Hannibal’s arm still slung across his middle, as if to ground himself.

“I feel like I should thank you for the best orgasm I’ve had in years, maybe ever, but I don’t think words will cut it.”

“Did it help?”

“Oh, yes. My head feels blissfully empty right now… no Garett Jacob Hobbs, no killers, no Jack. Just me… and you.” Will looked at him, expression soft and unguarded; Hannibal couldn’t resist stroking his hair and drawing him in for a kiss, languid and unhurried. Will burrowed closer pliant and relaxed, tangling his legs with Hannibal’s. His hand trailed down the older man’s furry chest and across his middle, teasing at the waistband of his boxers.

Will gave Hannibal’s lower lip one last lick and drew back to murmur, “I’m sorry. I’ve been inconsiderate.”

“You asked me to help you stop thinking. We seem to have accomplished that.”

Will raised his eyebrows, letting his hand wander lower, touching him lightly through the ruined silk.

“So, you helped me out of the goodness of your heart? Nothing personal? Because I recall you leaping over the counter and slamming me against the wall just several hours ago.” He increased the pressure, cataloguing every twitch of Hannibal’s expression. “You see, sex isn’t really fun for me unless both parties are enjoying themselves.”

“Will… seeing you in the throes of ecstasy, brought by my touch, you can be certain I enjoyed that immensely.”

“I suppose you did. Still, you did most of the work, I just held on and made noises.”

“Lovely noises…”

“Yeah, right, maybe now I get to touch. Let me have fun!”

Suddenly less playful and more determined, Will slid downwards and hooked his fingers in Hannibal’s waistband, removing his boxers. Hannibal’s cock slapped against his belly, already a mess of precome, foreskin almost fully retracted. He gasped at the light touch of Will’s fingers, trailing up and down his shaft, pausing to tug and twist, studying the way the foreskin moved along the head, examining the texture. When he pulled it all the way down and bent to lick at the exposed skin, Hannibal groaned deeply, bunching the sheets in his fists.

“Will, I’m very close.”

Suddenly the careful grasp became an iron grip and Will looked up at him, eyes steely.

“No, you won’t. I was promised a thorough fucking. You are not coming before that.”

“I have never in my life promised anyone such a crude thing as a _thorough fucking_.”

“I don’t care what you call it. You may have not said the words but you promised with your body, with your eyes. So you better hold on.”

The next minutes were torture. It took everything in Hannibal’s willpower to hold back as Will licked, sucked and stroked, making sounds of thorough enjoyment. His whole body trembled with the effort to hold back and not to thrust with abandon in the wet heat so willingly, _enthusiastically_ of offer.

Finally Will drew his mouth away with a wet pop and clambered up to straddle Hannibal’s hips and kiss him, sharing his flavor. Hannibal certainly didn’t mind, he licked into Will’s mouth, chasing his tongue. His cock dragged against Will’s hole, causing them both too shiver and groan. As Will settled above him, reaching for the lube again, Hannibal grasped his hips to steady him, watching greedily as Will slicked his cock and quickly pushed more lube inside his ass, biting his lips and whimpering. He has a flash of vision, of Will alone in his bed, riding his fingers, moaning and desperate for release, but he filed it away for later. He was the only thing Will would be riding tonight.

Losing his patience, he took his cock and pushed against the moist heat where Will’s fingers were buried. Will gasped and removed his hand, pushing slowly all the way down. Hannibal couldn’t contain a moan at the tightness enveloping his cock. Will threw his head back, answering with a moan of his own, starting to twitch and swivel his hips, testing out the way Hannibal’s girth stretched him.

“Oh god, this feels amazing…” his voice sounded broken already, little hitching pauses punctuating each movement. Hannibal let his hands roam, stroking Will’s smooth sides, letting him control the pace. Somehow the earlier urgency had dissipated, his own pleasure felt secondary to the sight of Will, gasping and whimpering, bowing his back and seeking the perfect angle. When he found it, his spine stiffened and he began to move with more determination, his mouth hanging open and his eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration. Hannibal felt a sharp stab of displeasure and steadied his hands on Will’s hips.

“Will, look at me.”

Slowly, Will complied, his eyes glassy, only a small ring of blue surrounding the pupil. Hannibal held his gaze as he tightened his hold and fucked up into the amazing, impossible creature sitting astride him.

Will’s eyes cleared and he cried out sharply, face slackening, eyes focusing on Hannibal.

“Oh god, again, please,” he whimpered and Hannibal complied, keeping the angle and thrusting up, his hand so tightly clenched that surely Will would have bruises by morning. Hannibal imagined the shape of his hands imprinted on Will’s white skin and that resulted in a particularly powerful upward jab. In answer, Will writhed above him, almost insensate, making sounds like a drowning man, clutching at Hannibal’s shoulders. His cock lay between them, leaking and rubbing against Hannibal’s stomach, the head a ruddy pink. The urgency returned suddenly with a vengeance, making Hannibal groan deeply in his throat, quickening the pace. He reached between them to stroke Will, feeling his orgasm build swiftly and unwilling to leave Will behind. He wanted the exquisite feeling of Will’s inner wall’s twitching around his cock, the way they had fluttered and spasmed around his fingers.

“Will…” he gasped, stroking faster, “Will, let go!”

With an inhuman noise, Will snapped his head back and started to come, thick ropes of semen painting Hannibal’s hand and chest, landing hot against his skin. His inner muscles tightened impossibly, fluttering and caressing Hannibal’s cock and with a groan of relief he let his own orgasm wash over him.

Will was shaking, his arms giving way as he collapsed on top of Hannibal, breathing heavily.

“That was something,” he murmured against Hannibal’s skin, nuzzling at his chest.

“Does it qualify as a ‘thorough fucking”?” Hannibal couldn’t resist teasing and Will chuckled softly.

“It should… I think my brain is leaking out of my ears.”

“That would be unfortunate. Come, we need a shower before sleep.” Neither of them raised the possibility of Will not staying the night.

In the bathroom, Will was half asleep already, so Hannibal washed him quickly, liking how Will’s body turned pliant and soft under his touch. He dried him off then and helped him into a pair of pajama pants. Then he quickly changed the sheets and drew Will down under the covers.

Hannibal held Will close as he snuggled into the soft pillow and relaxed, his breathing evening out. After the shower, without the distraction of their mutual arousal and the resulting fluids, he was very aware of Will’s own scent, and the sweet-sour fever of the illness which was slowly eating away at his brain. Hannibal had plans for that illness. Still, in the light of new developments, maybe he would have to rethink his strategy.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this bit of silliness. Come say hi on [tumblr](http://captainnightflyer.tumblr.com/)


End file.
